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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868731">Adventures in Unicorn's Creek</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/goresmores/pseuds/goresmores'>goresmores</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ADHD Tony, Alpha Peter Parker, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anosmia, M/M, Omega Tony Stark, Peter is 26, Rating will change</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:15:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/goresmores/pseuds/goresmores</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Next time he'd think twice about whether or not the scenic route was worth the change of pace. </p><p>Thanks to the flat tire, he'd walked give-or-take five miles past deposits of trash to some quaint little farm just down the road from a sign that said <em>Welcome to Unicorn’s Creek.</em> The paint had been peeling, there were bullet holes in the wood and the lettering looked like it had been done by a ten year old.</p><p>It definitely said a lot about where he'd ended up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Flat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tony could say for certain that a farm in the middle of buttfuck nowhere was never a place he expected to find himself. Given the fact that he'd <em>also</em> never expected to find himself in an Afghan cave, building a full-body suit of metal as a means of escape, he figured he should know by now that life had an unfortunate affinity for the unexpected.</p><p>At least this time he wasn't being held captive in a literal cave by extremists with machine guns. Driving a luxury sports car down a back road and ending up with a flat tire was definitely a preferable scenario. Next time he'd think twice about whether or not the scenic route was worth the change of pace. </p><p>Thanks to the flat tire, he'd walked give-or-take five miles past deposits of trash to some quaint little farm just down the road from a sign that said <em>Welcome to Unicorn’s Creek.</em> The paint had been peeling, there were bullet holes in the wood and the lettering looked like it had been done by a ten year old.</p><p>It definitely said a lot about where he'd ended up.</p><p>Walking up the driveway, he honed in on the sound of the gravel crunching under his feet to keep himself awake. Darkness had started to envelop the world around him, and Tony was beginning to feel the effects of it. Coupled with the stress, exertion of a few hours walking and the mental taxation of a full day's socializing prior to all of that, he could use some sleep.</p><p>Which… was not something that came easily anymore, so maybe it wasn't all that bad.</p><p>Even from a distance, he could see the yellow light through the windows of a tiny farm house a decent way away.</p><p>It was this or sleeping in his car. Considering he'd already walked and the fact that 'luxury’ didn't apply to one's experience when sleeping inside of it, he wanted to believe that the farm was the lesser of two evils. God forbid he come face to face with any serial killing rednecks.</p><p>Walking the rest of the way to the house, he took a look around the yard and at the various tools and such that surrounded the outside of the barn. There was nothing that could suggest his worst fears might not be so irrational, but if this <em>was</em> a murder farm, they were doing a good job of hiding the evidence. </p><p>Guess he’d find out when they pulled out the axe or dragged him off to some cellar, then.</p><p>Climbing the stairs to the porch with tired legs, he took note of the pair of rocking chairs, muddy boots outside the door and the rustic ‘Home Sweet Home’ carved into 3 separate pieces of wood that were held together with little strings of twine. The whole of it dangled delicately from yet another piece of twine that was held up by an ordinary nail.</p><p>Huh. </p><p>Raising his fist, he avoided the sign and gave the door a shave and a haircut, two bits knock.</p><p>While he waited for a response, a breeze rustled through the trees on the property. Being in the city had its perks, but there was something calming about the sound of the leaves and Tony felt his eyes grow heavier.</p><p>Just as his shoulders slumped, the front door opened and a young man with messy brown hair and big brown eyes assessed him from the doorway. A range of emotions—recognition, surprise, panic and finally a forced calm—crossed his face before he lifted a balled up hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. “What are <em>you</em> doing here?”</p><p>Tony raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”</p><p>Anxiety rolled over him like a wave and immediately he was tense. “Not like that! I mean, I know who you are? And you’re—” he chuckled incredulously and then gestured to Tony’s whole form, “you’re at my house?”</p><p>Run of the mill reaction, but he’d greeted him the way Rhodey, or Steve or even Pepper sometimes would. Tony glossed over it. “Sorry to bother you, but does this place happen to have a mechanic?” </p><p>He opened his mouth, floundered for a second and then said, “Not the first question I expected from Tony Stark, but sure? His name is Wade. He doesn't open up again until tomorrow morning around ten. I say around ten,” he made a little hand gesture to suit the 'around’ without stopping his explanation, “because he's kinda crazy? So sometimes he gets side-tracked and forgets to open on time. Y'know, if he bothers to open at all.” He clenched the doorframe. “But officially he opens at ten.”</p><p>“That’s a sound way of running your business.”</p><p>“Tell me about it. But uhm… we don’t really need Wade? We have tools and spare tires in the shed. I got good at fixing up cars because the old pickup breaks down a lot and my uhm—” he waved a hand, “Nevermind. Point is, I can fix it.”</p><p>Tony squinted. “You know that I can also fix it, right?”</p><p>“Oh.” The kid tapped nervously on the doorframe and looked around as he struggled to respond. “Well, yeah, but you’re a guest. I’m not gonna make a guest fix his own car, y’know?”</p><p>Tony smirked. “Southern hospitality?”</p><p>The kid smiled, “As one from the south does, sir.”</p><p>Scrunching his nose, Tony waved him off. “None of that. Call me Tony.”</p><p>“Tony it is! Uh, I’m Peter. Sorry.” He held out a hand and Tony shook it.</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Peter. Does your pickup happen to tow or are we shit outta luck?”</p><p>Peter snapped his fingers and sighed, looking disappointed. “You’re talking to the king of bad luck, unfortunately. Uhm, do you wanna come inside? You can borrow the phone to call the tow truck.” </p><p>Peter held the door open to let Tony in and Tony got his first look at the inside of the farmhouse. Obviously, a woman lived here—judging by the decor—and the only reason he could tell it was a woman and not that Peter was just a little fruity or something was that the living room was generally tidy save for patches of half-built legos that littered the floor and couch, as well as an oversized box to hold them all. The only reason the legos weren’t on the table was because that was taken up by chemistry equipment, a few spread out and balled up pages, an open notebook of physics problems and a pair of goggles. He was very southern nerdboy chic, whereas the house was decorated with cheesy throw pillows, doilies and well, wait a minute, there was very clearly a picture of a woman on the wall posing next to Peter. So, yeah. A woman. A hot one, too, which was unexpected of a farm lady from the boonies in Texas of all places, but hey, Tony wasn’t going to complain.</p><p>“You home alone, kid?”</p><p>Peter turned halfway around. “I’m gonna let that slide. Anyways, not anymore, since you’re here. The kitchen is through that way and the number is taped to the wall beside it.” </p><p>While Tony tried to make sense of the logistics surrounding that, he made his way into the kitchen. It was clean, but it was small and the sink was full of dishes. More evidence of what Peter is like home alone, apparently. At the very least the pot on the stove was enough proof that he knew how to take care of himself. Tony quickly moved on and scanned for the phone, expecting a handset sitting somewhere, but instead the phone was an older model mounted on the wall.</p><p>Holy shit. How does this house look older than everyone in it?</p><p>Ignoring that, he reached for the phone and dialed the number beside it, the tape fraying and unsticking from the wall with its age. Tony curled the cord around his finger while it rang to keep himself occupied, his attention immediately going all over the place as he looked down at the floor, where the tile was worn and mud had been tracked in by the back door. He started tapping his foot as it continued ringing and then he heard, “Wilson Towing and Mechanics. If we missed your call we’re either closed, banging or busy. Try calling back later.” The line beeped and Tony hung up with a sigh. </p><p>Alrighty then.</p><p>Tony made his way back into the living room where Peter was sitting on the very edge of the couch and shoving two chunks of lego together. “They didn’t answer.”</p><p>Peter winced. “Sorry. They’re unreliable but the town is small enough that they can get away with it. People complain but not too many people around here know how to fix their own cars and trucks, so…” </p><p>Hm. “Guess that’s that then. Is there anywhere around here that I can stay the night?”</p><p>Peter tapped nervously on his legos, “There’s a motel but my aunt actually has the pickup right now because she went out of town to visit a friend of hers who recently had a baby. I don’t think you wanna walk a few miles.” He stood up and set them aside, “We have a guest bedroom though? If you’re comfortable staying here.”</p><p>“Sure, sounds good. Before that, though, do you mind if I shower? I don’t want to dirty your sheets with all of my sweat.”</p><p>“Oh! Yeah, of course! Follow me.”</p><p>Peter led him through the dining area and into the little hall where a full-length foldable partition functioned as a door for their bathroom. Once inside, Peter pointed out the shampoo, conditioner and body wash and then supplied Tony with a rag to wash his body with, as well as one of the towels from the clean stack from inside the cabinet by the shower.</p><p>He ducked partway out and left Tony standing there. “After you get done, you’re welcome to have something to eat too. I’m making deer meat stew and it should be done soon.” Peter left the bathroom. </p><p>He'd started unbuttoning his shirt when Peter popped back in with a hand over his eyes. “Sorry! I just realized you might need to borrow clothes? I can wash yours with mine and let you borrow some stuff I have?” </p><p>Tony eyed him. Peter's frame was much more lithe than Tony's own. Scrawnier limbs, narrower shoulders and waist. Whatever his designation may be didn't really matter to Tony. Designation wasn’t the problem. The problem was, “No offense but I'm not sure I'd fit into whatever you gave me.” </p><p>“Well… it won't be mine, exactly. But it's clean?” </p><p>“Sure, then. Thanks again.” </p><p>“Yep.” He left and Tony got back to work on his buttons, undoing the last one when Peter popped back in, eyes squeezed shut. </p><p>“I'm not naked. You can open your eyes, you know.” </p><p>Peter's features faltered with yet another wave of nerves. “Uh,” he started, lamely. </p><p><em>Don't roll your eyes, Tony. He's a good kid.</em> “Don't get me wrong, it's really respectful of you and all, but I don't care one way or the other.” </p><p>Peter opened his eyes. </p><p>Hm. Maybe a mistake, there.</p><p>Big brown eyes gave him a once over, and then fixated on his reactor. Tony watched him look, and Peter's eyes met his guiltily, face red. He was only human, though, so naturally his gaze made its way back to what really had his interest. </p><p>And then, lower than that. </p><p>But back up. </p><p>He cleared his throat. “Y'know, Pete, we can talk about this later. You like science? I saw your coffee table.”</p><p>He flushed even further, “Sorry, that would be cool, yeah.” He handed Tony the clothes and left for good.</p><p>Well, that sure was an experience.</p><p>Divesting himself of his remaining clothes, he hopped into the shower and made quick work of scrubbing himself down. It was a practiced process, and before long he was rinsing himself and getting out to dry off. </p><p>Then there was the matter of redressing. What had been provided for him? A red plaid shirt and light wash jeans. These were going to clash with his dress shoes.</p><p>Whatever. It wasn’t like most of this place didn’t already clash with the rest of his taste.</p><p>He got himself dressed and headed towards the dining room to see the living room empty. He turned his head to the left where the kitchen was and saw Peter ladling stew into two bowls. Despite the fact that his steps could probably be heard on the old wood floor, Tony knocked on the doorframe. “Knock, knock.”</p><p>“Hey Tony! You’re just in time!” Peter turned around and carried both bowls with him. “Do you want it now or should I set it down?” </p><p>Tony shrugged. “I’ll take it.” </p><p>Peter passed him his bowl and Tony got out of his way so that Peter could join him at the table. He did, but not before heading back to the kitchen. “Tea or water?”</p><p>"Water." </p><p>And once they had their respective drinks, they dug in.</p><p>The shower had woken him up a little bit, but as he was blowing on the spoon to cool down his food before his first bite, Tony felt exhaustion settle back over him. His shoulders slumped some and he shoved the spoon into his mouth.</p><p>The vegetables were as soft as Tony could ask for and the meat was perfectly tender. “You can really cook, kid.”</p><p>Peter flushed. “Thank you, but I also feel like we really need to have the conversation about how I’m not a kid.”</p><p>“Bullshit,” Tony argued humorously. “You look like you’re lucky enough to barely be legal.”</p><p>Peter snorted, dropping his spoon into his bowl. “Jesus, yeah, no. I’m twenty-six.”</p><p>“Twenty-six?! That’s <em>definitely</em> bullshit. I’m gonna need to see some ID.”</p><p>“What are you? A liquor store?” His tone and expression was incredulous, and Tony had to hold back a laugh.</p><p>He did a lot of ID checking in his time. He was his dick’s bouncer and you could never be too careful when you were high-profile and at least had <em>some</em> morals. Peter, of course, didn’t need to know all of that.</p><p>“With how much I drink? I’m only short of the liquor license at this point.”</p><p>Peter didn't seem to find that comment very funny, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to show Tony his ID. “Parker, 1994. Well shit, look at that. Fourteen years.”</p><p>"Fourteen?"</p><p>"Age difference. Gotta say, that makes me feel a whole lot better about what happened in the bathroom."</p><p>"Oh God." Peter shoved a bite in his mouth and covered his face.</p><p>"No, it's good. You're far from the first, you won't be the last and you're far from the worst looking." Tony stirred his stew as he considered an amendment, "I'm not sure I emphasized quite how far. You do realize you're gorgeous, right?"</p><p>Peter's face was flushed and he was staring down at his stew. "Uh. Thank you? That's—hm." He took another bite, not daring to look up.</p><p>The rest of their meal was silent in the wake of Peter's embarrassment, and normally Tony wouldn't be content with the lack of conversation, but he was too tired to make the effort. When they finished, Tony tried to do his part by taking Peter's dishes to the sink for him.</p><p>"Oh, no, you don't have to do that!"</p><p>"Nonsense." He'd already stacked them gently on top of the rest of the precariously piled dishes and dusted his hands for dramatic effect. "See? No problem." </p><p>Peter seemed mildly disgruntled by this but just sighed. "Alright. Thank you, Tony." He pushed his chair in and said, "Let me show you the guest room." </p><p>Without further preamble, Tony was being led down the hall, past the restroom and to the door straight ahead. Peter opened the door and Tony took in the full-size bed, the old little recliner in the corner and the copious cat decorations on the walls.</p><p>"There's a blanket on the bed but do you—I mean—"</p><p>Oh. "Yeah, I'll take an extra if you have it." </p><p>Peter flushed again and scurried off to get Tony an extra blanket. </p><p>Cute. Guess that meant he was kicking it with an Alpha, since an Omega would have just left an extra blanket without asking. Whether he used it or not was up to him, but it would have been given out of courtesy, rather than the fumbling attempt at being polite he'd gotten from Peter. He hadn't really considered what the designation of his host would mean for him, but apparently he was inciting Peter's Alpha instincts. Then again, he's unbonded, so that makes sense. Oh well. It could be worse.</p><p>Tony went ahead and sat down on the bed, smoothing out the covers with his palm as he messed them up with his weight. It was a cute little room. The whole house was sort of cute, albeit old, somewhat dilapidated and incredibly tiny. </p><p>Peter came back in with one of the biggest, softest blankets Tony had ever seen outside of his own nesting collection, and he had to suppress the flattery that welled up his chest. "I'm sorry, uhm—" he handed the blanket over and awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck.</p><p>"Thanks, Pete."</p><p>"Uh huh. Have a nice—" his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, "Have a nice night." He closed the door behind him and then Tony was left alone to fall asleep.</p><p>He kicked off his shoes and undid the button on the jeans so he could take them off, but decided not to forego the shirt. He was used to sleeping with one on and he didn't exactly feel comfortable stripping down to sleep in a strange house. </p><p>When he laid down, his weight sunk into the comfort of the memory foam and he tucked a portion of the blanket under his chin, content to feel the softness caressing his skin. He wrapped his arms wrapping around the rest of its mass and was out in an instant, Restless Leg Syndrome damned by his socks and exhaustion.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Morning After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>oh shit its pepper! sort of, at least. and some more of peter's well-intentioned alpha doting</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i didnt have this one beta'd because i got impatient. i just edited it myself and decided to post it but i might have my friend read over it later because i dont trust myself, so if this note gets deleted, it's actually been looked over!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tony woke up the next morning to the sound of his phone ringing on the nightstand. </p>
<p>He grumbled, but answered it. “Go for Tony.”</p>
<p>“Did you just wake up?” </p>
<p>“Unfortunately.”</p>
<p>Tony could hear Pepper roll her eyes through the phone. “It's already ten-thirty. It's time to get up and at 'em, Tony. How was the conference yesterday?” </p>
<p>He pushed himself upright and resisted the urge to groan at the gross feeling in his head and the hollow ache in his chest. “Fine and dandy. Charmed everyone’s socks off and then I drove off and ended up with a flat tire.” </p>
<p>“Oh my God, are you okay?” </p>
<p>“I walked a bit and found some place to stay. The guy who lives here said he has the stuff to fix it, so I'll be back on the road before you know it. We just need the tow truck people to actually answer the phone so we can drag it back to his farm."</p>
<p>She sounded relieved, but also exasperated, “You didn't have a spare?” </p>
<p>Tony stood to stretch, “Would you believe I forgot to put another one in after the first time I had to replace my tire?” </p>
<p>“Easily,” she said, with a touch of humor to her tone. “Well I'm glad you're safe, even if you're… on a farm? Text me when you're heading out so I know you're on the way. I'll have to stand in for you during today's meeting. They were looking forward to conferring with you personally, but accidents happen.” </p>
<p>He walked the few steps towards the chair in the corner of the room so he could start getting dressed. “Well, we could video call, if it's really that important.” He waited for a response, but one never came. “Pepper?” </p>
<p>Tony pulled the phone away from his ear to check the screen, only to find that the call had been dropped. He didn't have service in this spot. </p>
<p>He walked back to his previous spot with a huff and called her back. As soon as he could tell that she'd picked up, he started from where he'd left off, “I was saying we could video call if it's that important.” </p>
<p>“Where the hell are you that your service is so spotty?!”</p>
<p>“Lost in the ass crack of Texas! I’m literally in the boonies, Pep. This isn’t Old McDonald’s roadside farm for school field trips, this is fifteen-to-the-nearest-gas-station." He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Look, do we need to do the video call or not? I want to get out of here as soon as possible.” </p>
<p>Pepper huffed on the other side of the phone, “I'll call and explain the situation and we'll go from there. I'll text you the final decision so make sure you're in a place with a good connection if we go through with it.” </p>
<p>“Will do.” He hung up and tossed his phone aside so he could finish getting ready and get Peter out the door.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Peter was once again in the kitchen, only this time he was pulling a shirt over his head, one arm already in a sleeve. It was definitely sort of odd, but Tony couldn't say he was put off by the chance to see Peter's trim waist and surprisingly muscular arms. His eyes followed Peter as he made his way past the fridge and to the stove.</p>
<p>Peter adjusted his shirt at his hips and smiled, “Hey! You can make a plate! I don't know how you like your toast but I can make some of that too." </p>
<p>The sink was empty now and the counter had a fresh skillet of eggs, a plate of bacon, a stack of pancakes and an empty plate he assumed was for the toast if Tony decided he wanted some. At this rate the nicest thing Tony could do is say thanks and not point it out.</p>
<p>Tony took the plate that Peter was quick to offer him and said, "Sure, I'll take some toast. Light brown, just crunchy enough, y'know?"</p>
<p>"You got it!" He was chipper. </p>
<p>Tony set his plate down and checked a cabinet or two before he found the glasses. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and offered it to Peter who declined in favor of milk, and then it was time for their second meal together.</p>
<p>Peter was chipper, which Tony figured could be attributed to Tony's positive reaction to his Alpha doting. He'd purposefully put some of everything on his plate and taken him up on the toast for that very reason, and the fact that Peter didn't get much more than pancakes and bacon was telling that he'd gone the extra mile for Tony.</p>
<p>He tried not to have any particular feelings about it because he'd be fixing his car and leaving, and moreover he wasn't unused to this kind of treatment from people but… something was just different. Maybe it was because Peter reminded him a little of Steve, who couldn't help himself when Tony was in particular moods. Maybe it was because unlike the upper class Alphas that surrounded Tony when he bothered to attend events, Peter didn't act like he was entitled to anything based on their designations.</p>
<p>When Tony had his last bite on his fork, he looked up to see Peter looking at him, shy but intense. </p>
<p>The older man raised an eyebrow curiously. He looked like he was expecting something and Tony was lost. </p>
<p>Peter's fingers wiggled nervously against the top of the table, chest raised with his held breath. </p>
<p>“Didja need something, Pete?” </p>
<p>The air expelled at once with his reply, “Is it good?"</p>
<p>Tony paused for a moment and looked down at his plate. "Yeah, you're—yeah. Not just good, really good." He took the last bite and watched Petered face fall a bit. Tony chewed quickly and swallowed, "No, hey, don't give me that look. I wasn't trying to… You remind me of Steve. Captain America. You know him?"</p>
<p>Peter just stared, confused now.</p>
<p>"Why am I even asking that? Of course you do."</p>
<p>"Are you two…?"</p>
<p>Tony threw his head back, trying not to sigh. The number of times he'd gotten this question. He looked over at Peter before he answered. "Jesus, no, he's got his own thing going on. I'm just always caught off guard when Alphas aren't assholes and I don't know how to react because it's—" he waved his hand, "it's a whole thing. I don't really know how to explain it. Just know I do appreciate it."</p>
<p>Peter nodded as if he understood. "I get that. If you want me to tone it down—"</p>
<p>Tony waved a hand. "Maybe just a smidge less eager to please. I don't want to hurt your feelings, Southern Hospitality." </p>
<p>"Alright." Peter blushed lightly. "Uhm, now that we're done eating can I… canIseeyourchestthingy?"</p>
<p>Because he definitely understood word vomit. “Come again?” </p>
<p>Peter inhaled and tried again, “I wanted to see the thing in your chest.” He made a circle shape on his own chest with his pointer finger, “You said we could talk about it. I just feel bad because it's probably pretty personal? I mean, I've seen the pictures of you in your armor and it seems like maybe it powers your suit, but you've never talked about it. Doesn't really make sense not to unless it's something you don't want to talk about. And plus, like, you have a reputation for being good at avoiding things but that's—that’s rude to say, <em>and</em> I'm rambling, fuck! I'm sorry!” He buried his face in his hands.</p>
<p>“It's fine, Pete. You scratch my back, I show you my arc reactor.” He invited himself to move the conversation into the living room so he could sit down in the recliner near the coffee table and with a curt puff of a sigh, began unbuttoning his borrowed shirt.</p>
<p>Peter followed suit after a hesitant moment and sat near him on the couch, watching as Tony deftly undid them one by one, revealing the arc reactor in his chest. </p>
<p>“So, first question, what is it?” </p>
<p>“It’s a power core. It used to run on palladium but one short battery life here, a bit of blood poisoning there and it was time for a change. I can't disclose what it's running on now, but the gist of it is that it powers an electromagnet that keeps a piece of shrapnel from getting to my heart and killing me. Y'know, fun science-y stuff.” </p>
<p>Peter was intrigued, but ultimately winced at the explanation. “It comes out, then?” </p>
<p>“It does. I'd give a demo but then I'd go into cardiac arrest in your living room, and while I bet that'd be a hell of a story to tell at parties, I'll pass.” </p>
<p>Now Peter seemed genuinely worried for his safety. Well, that made two of them. The second being Pepper.</p>
<p>“Why not have the shrapnel surgically removed, then?”</p>
<p>Tony was dumbfounded by this question. He floundered a bit before he shut his mouth altogether. </p>
<p>Why? Lots of reasons came to mind. The reactor was part of what made him Iron Man. The shrapnel threatening to kill him was part of what made him Iron Man. It served as a reminder—kept him up at night thinking of ways he could do better and one-up the shitty version of himself that he'd been trying to leave behind ever since Afghanistan. </p>
<p>But like hell was he spilling his guts to Peter. Hell, he'd said more than enough already. </p>
<p>“Any other questions?” </p>
<p>“Tony—” Peter started, but Tony cut him off. </p>
<p>“I'm sorry,” His temper was flaring, “You can ask another question or we can end it here and hit the road.” </p>
<p>Peter relented, “Okay. Sorry, I'm just really interested in bioengineering. I kind of have a thing about helping people, but I know it's not my place to lecture you, so really, I'm sorry.” </p>
<p>Tony waved him off, “Forget about it.” He started buttoning his shirt back up. After a brief enough silence to warrant changing the subject, Tony spoke again, “That's pretty cool though, bioengineering. You go to college for that?” </p>
<p>He noticed the hand twitch, but he was still surprised by Peter's distracted, “Yeah,” followed by him blurting out, “Can I touch it?” </p>
<p>Tony hesitated.</p>
<p>And unfortunately just long enough to make Peter anxious about asking. </p>
<p>“Sorry, no—nevermind. That was—” but Tony reached forward to grab his hand and press it to his chest. </p>
<p>God, he just did <em>not</em> stop talking and apologizing. “You've got a real problem about not shutting up.” </p>
<p>But his comment was moot, because this had done it. Peter was entirely fixated on his arc reactor now, finger circling the outer edges and tracing along the downward triangle shape. He knew the feeling all too well; firm glass and smooth metal that was raised under the fingertips, and warm too, because of his body heat. </p>
<p>Well, this was intimate. </p>
<p>Peter looked up and caught his gaze, flushing red with embarrassment before pulling away. </p>
<p>For once, he didn't apologize.</p>
<p>Now that the arc reactor stuff was done with, he started buttoning his shirt for real this time, cleared his throat and said, “So, college, then?”</p>
<p>Peter nodded, “Mhm, college. I’m a student in a city a couple miles away, but I'm working on my doctorate right now. I should be finished, but some stuff happened and I ended up starting late. One more year!” His ending enthusiasm was weak, and for a second he looked much older and tired.</p>
<p>"Impressive. What're gonna do once you're finished?"</p>
<p>This was the second time Peter has vaguely mentioned things happening to him, and while Tony was curious, part of him felt like it'd found a kindred spirit. He kept smoothly avoiding the topic, despite accidentally bringing it up. Tony just hoped all the things that he'd been through didn't make him look older too. God know he doesn't need to add 'looking old prematurely' on top of everything else. </p>
<p>He was quiet for a moment. "I haven't really thought that far ahead. Not to spill my guts but I grew up in Queens and my family moved out here because some… stuff happened and… I'm not sure I'm ready to leave the farm." </p>
<p>Okay, make that three times.</p>
<p>"Well, SI has places in Texas you could work if you ever change your mind." </p>
<p>Peter seemed caught off guard. "But you—you hardly even know me." </p>
<p>Tony shrugged. "I peeped your notebook. You're smart and you're a decent enough person."</p>
<p>"... Thanks, Tony."</p>
<p>"Sure thing." He leaned back in the chair and crossed his leg over his knee. "So, I'm thinking we digest and then we can see about that tow truck, huh?"</p>
<p>"Sounds like a plan! You like soap operas?"</p>
<p>"Absolutely not."</p>
<p>"Then you'll love this one." Peter turned on the TV with a mischievous smile and adjusted himself on the couch.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Prove It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tony meets Wade, things get a little hectic and uuuhhh wow Peter</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i hate this! i've genuinely struggled with it and on god i'll find a beta reader somewhere if i can find someone who likes starker and will actually be proactive about making reading this thing palatable for everyone but until then you get this tony-omelette of a chapter.</p>
<p>I'M NOT DEAD! and i can't for the life of me guarantee i'll keep writing this but i DID quit my job and i'm taking at least 2 weeks off to take a break bc my life has been hell and that might be a motivator for writing more?? assuming i have downtime, anyways. which is likely. i'm going to alabama and god knows what the hell i'll get up to while i'm there</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tony and Peter were sitting on the porch when the tow truck pulled up the driveway blaring an obnoxious La Cucaracha horn.</p>
<p>A huge, bald man stuck his head and arm out the window to wave at them and the truck swerved unnervingly off course. The breaks slammed and then Peter was getting up out of his chair and walking down the steps to greet him.</p>
<p>Now, Tony was trying to not make a habit of expecting things—given all that had happened—but there were a number of unexpected things that played out before him all at once. </p>
<p>For instance, said huge, bald and now evidently <em>scarred</em> man essentially squealed out “Baby boy!” loud enough to disturb the entire… well, actually, there weren’t very many neighbors to speak of. </p>
<p>After who Tony could only guess was Wade tripped over his own two feet in desperate haste to reach Peter, the young man opened his arms so that Wade could more easily hug him once he regained his balance. Wade happily closed what looked like six inches of height difference between them to kiss Peter on the lips, complete with a dramatic <em>mwah</em> sound. </p>
<p>“Petey-pie! You're not holed up in your house anymore! After we tow your piece of shit truck back to the farm, do you wanna get a bite to eat with me and ‘Nessa?”</p>
<p>Peter pushed at Wade, glancing quickly to Tony before sternly saying, “Wade, we <em>talked</em> about this.” </p>
<p>Wade backed up, “Right, right, spideypool is dead and buried in the backyard. Sorry.” </p>
<p>“It's—it’s fine, just—” Tony missed the way Peter used his eyes to silently signal he was worried about their PDA in front of him. “Besides, it’s not my truck this time. It’s his car.”</p>
<p>“Ooooooooh, okay! Gotcha. Well, c'mon, bring your friend and let's go!”</p>
<p>Wade hopped back into the truck through the open door and rocked the entire vehicle with his weight. He patted the seat beside him with a feral grin and Peter smiled back half-heartedly, going around the truck to get in.</p>
<p>Well, at least Tony would be by the door.</p>
<p>As soon as Tony had pulled the door closed, they were backing out of the driveway entirely too fast while Wade talked the entire time, and they burned rubber as the truck sped down the road far beyond the speed limit.</p>
<p>And that's when it became obvious that Peter kept company with similar types. </p>
<p>Wade? Didn't know how to shut up to save his life. Not that Tony could really talk, except that at least when he went on and on he was <em>charming</em> about it.</p>
<p>Tony let his head fall against the window and he watched as they passed pockets of trees that lined the road and the open properties of other farms and ranches that kept cows, horses and goats. </p>
<p>Wade was jabbering about truffle pigs and reparations in the background when suddenly he was yelling, “Ooh! Petey look, it’s Weasel!” La Cucaracha sounded off and Wade stuck his arm out the window to wave, the vehicle once again swerving and almost crashing into the truck beside them. “Oops!” Understandably, the other driver honked angrily back at him and Wade sighed contentedly as Weasel’s truck grew smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. “God, I hate him.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Wade!”</em>
</p>
<p>“Oh calm down, Petey it’s not like I’m gonna crash the car! Wouldn’t that be ironic? I need a tow truck and I <em>am</em> the tow truck. It’s like Schrodinger's cat!”</p>
<p>“Wade, that has nothing to do with Schrodinger’s cat!”</p>
<p>Tony pinched the bridge of his nose against the oncoming migraine. “Can we turn on the radio?”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Tony.”</em>
</p>
<p>“Peter.” </p>
<p>“Wade,” Wade added. “Do you have a problem, Stark?”</p>
<p>“Just the oncoming migraine,” he replied, expression withered by the stress.</p>
<p>Wade turned abruptly and pulled over on the side of the road shitty enough that both Peter and Tony were thrown forward and only saved by their seatbelts. "Get out."</p>
<p>Tony looked around outside the truck and realized that he didn't recognize any of this scenery. He'd never been here before. "Wait a minute." He turned back around to Peter, "Did you see my car? At all?"</p>
<p>Peter scratched his neck and shrugged.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Get out of the truck."</em>
</p>
<p>“Wade, c'mon,” Peter said, voice half of a plea and half of a reprimand.</p>
<p>“No! He's rich enough! He can pay someone else enough to deal with him! Or fuck, why not just buy a new car? He's Tony Stark, right? This shouldn't be a problem for him.” </p>
<p>“Oh my god. Just tow my car and I'll leave!” Which, speaking of his car, <em>where the hell is it?</em></p>
<p>Wade opened the driver's side door and started getting out. “I'm gonna kill him. I'm killing him. Petey, get me a knife outta the glove box.” </p>
<p>Peter grabbed his wrist and held him back. “You're not killing anyone, Wade. No knives. Am I clear?” </p>
<p>Wade tried to jerk free but couldn't. “Don't need a knife, Petey.” </p>
<p>
  <em>“Wade."</em>
</p>
<p>Tony opened the door and got out. "'Let me just call up my insane fucking friend who keeps <em>murder knives</em> in his <em>glove box!'</em> Great idea, Peter! Do you want to introduce me to any of your Texas Chainsaw friends?" </p>
<p>“Both of you stop it!”</p>
<p>The fact that Peter was raising his voice caught both of their attention and they stared at him, dumbfounded. Wade looked properly scolded and the way he hunched in a bit in response gave Tony a distinctly omegan impression that he did his best to ignore. </p>
<p>"Tony, you're sitting in the bed of the truck. Wade, I'm driving while we look for Tony's car so you don't accidentally throw him out. Understood?”</p>
<p>“‘Accidentally.’”</p>
<p>Peter glared at him.</p>
<p>Tony was miffed about the fact that <em>he</em> had to be sitting in the back of the truck, so he didn’t respond and just got up into the bed to sit down. Just his luck that Peter followed him. </p>
<p>“I know this isn’t ideal but I can’t make him sit in the back. It’s his truck and it has his wife’s scent all over it so I’m not gonna take that from him.” </p>
<p>He said that like it was supposed to mean something profound, but Tony was sympathetic at best.</p>
<p>“Fine.”</p>
<p>Peter frowned at him and got back into the truck.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Excuse me.” </p>
<p>Peter ignored him. </p>
<p>“Are you ignoring me? Stop ignoring me.” </p>
<p>He still wasn't graced with a response.</p>
<p>A car passed by and Tony had to watch, humiliated, as a teenage girl in the front seat made eye contact with him.</p>
<p>“That’s the second time this morning,” he noted, petulant. “You can't just keep carrying me like a sexy, billionaire sack of flour. And remind me—how are you doing that? You have the physique of a strip club twink.” </p>
<p>Peter huffed. “It's none of your business.” He kicked a rock out of the way and kept walking, obviously not at all convinced that he should be putting Tony down. “Has anyone ever told you you're a brat, Tony?” </p>
<p>“Well, most people know what's good for them. So no.” </p>
<p>“Shame. 'Cause you're a brat. A really big brat. Like if Sharpay Evans owned a company and became a superhero.” </p>
<p>“Because I definitely know who Sharpay Evans is. Know your audience, pal.” </p>
<p>Finally, Peter set him down, but he just walked off, muttering something to himself. </p>
<p>“You're not talking shit now, are you?” </p>
<p>“No! I'm saying I'm an idiot!” </p>
<p>Tony scoffed, “What about this makes you an idiot? Besides your dating history with Tweedledum back there, I mean.” </p>
<p>Gesticulating with the maximum amount of irritation possible, Peter gestured to Tony, “That's exactly what I mean! You're—You’re a brat! And an <em>asshole!</em> But we’re—” he bit back whatever he was going to say, and settled on, “But for some reason I <em>still</em> like you!” His tone changed as though he was speaking more to himself than to Tony, voice lower and pace sped up, “Somehow I think it makes me like you even more and that sort of reminds me of Wade but that's—that’s not the point!” </p>
<p>His expression turned serious and almost hurt, “Wade is my friend. Sure, he's a lot of things and two of those things happen to be obnoxious and a motor mouth, but I care about him! And you hurt his feelings, Tony.” </p>
<p>Tony went to open his mouth and speak, but nothing came out and he closed it again. </p>
<p>Peter turned and started walking away, leaving Tony to catch up and reach for his shoulder, “I'm sorry! Okay?”</p>
<p>He wouldn't look at him. “Are you sorry to me, or are you sorry to Wade?” </p>
<p>“Both.” </p>
<p>“Would you apologize to him? And would you mean it?” </p>
<p>“Yes.” </p>
<p>Peter was silent as he studied Tony’s face. Eventually he said, “Alright.”</p>
<p>They walked the rest of the way back to Peter’s house side by side. </p>
<p>They had no idea how, but based on the fact that they’d driven up and down the strip of road between Peter’s house and some weird church further away than where Tony was sure he’d pulled over, they’d gotten out to inspect the gravel and concluded that his car was stolen. Fantastic, really.</p>
<p>Wade had gotten another work call and despite his insistence on driving Peter home, Peter had brushed it off. Tony, of course, was all for getting a ride back. </p>
<p>
  <em>“It’s the least he can do. If he’d answered the fucking phone last night we wouldn’t even be here right now.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Don’t act all high and mighty with me, Tin Can. You’re a big famous engineer, why didn’t you just change your own flat and drive off into the sunset?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tony didn’t respond, and Wade was quick to rub in what he already knew.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Didn’t have a spare?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Listen, Baldy. This isn’t about me. This is about how you can’t do your job right and now my car got stolen!”</em>
</p>
<p>This dissolved into another fight, and Peter ended up slinging Tony over his shoulder and walking away with an apology to his dipshit bestie.</p>
<p>“What’s up with that anyways?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“You and Wade.”</p>
<p>Peter sighed. “We dated because we seemed to fit together well enough and Wade was really into me. Truthfully… I wasn’t the greatest to him. Before he met Vanessa he was so much more all over the place and eager to please but terrible at listening to what anyone would tell him. After her, we broke up and they got together and ever since then he’s changed a lot for the better. I apologized to him awhile back about how I’d treated him before and we’ve been doing better since then.”</p>
<p>He wanted to ask what was wrong with the guy, but Tony managed to utilize empathy and steered himself away from it mentally.</p>
<p>Instead, Tony opted for not saying anything at all and they walked side by side until they reached a part of the road where Peter’s driveway was clearly visible. </p>
<p>“So, what? Super strength. Are you an alien? A god? A science experiment gone wrong? That's the gist of my Pal Gallery as it stands, so why not add another, right?” </p>
<p>Peter made a contemplative sound, “I guess science experiment isn't <em>that</em> far off. But I'm no Hulk—just the byproduct of a radioactive spider bite.” </p>
<p>“Radioactivity. That's original.” </p>
<p>“Are you dissing my powers?” </p>
<p>“Of course not, I love your powers. With your… y'know—” he waved his hand, searching for a believable spider-power, “webs. You make webs?” </p>
<p>Peter huffed, a bitter edge to the joking tone of his voice, “Yep. Webs. Right out of my fat ass abdomen. Thick and white, too. Almost like jizz but more targeted, y'know?” </p>
<p>“Oh, so you're definitely venomous.” He had some real bite to him, when he wasn’t feeling it. It fleshed out the anxious, homely character he’d first perceived Peter to be.</p>
<p>More to the point, a smirk shouldn't look so good on someone like Peter but it did things to Tony.</p>
<p>“No venom but I have been known to bite in self-defense.”</p>
<p>“Not as a warning?”</p>
<p>“No, but that definitely seems like something you would do, now that you mention it.”</p>
<p>Tony shrugged, biting back a smile. “Well, desperate times. If you put me in a situation where I feel like biting as a warning is necessary, I’ll do it. That’s on you for putting me in that position.”</p>
<p>He glanced over to see Peter’s eyes close with a sweet, amused laugh. “Fair enough! Note to self, make sure not to put him in a position to bite.”</p>
<p>Now it was Tony’s turn to smirk. “Only for sexy reasons. Permission granted for any and all sexy reasons unless otherwise stated in the moment.”</p>
<p>“That’s a really sexy way of detailing your approach to consent, Tony.”</p>
<p>“What can I say? I’m oozing appeal. Although maybe not so much when I’m annoyed and having a bad attitude in a cramped tow truck—I can admit that. And I really am sorry about that, for the record.”</p>
<p>Peter flushed beside him but Tony could tell he was schooling his expression into something purposefully stern. “I forgive you, but I do expect a do-over with Wade and an apology to him. I was serious about that.”</p>
<p>“And I was serious about apologizing to him.”</p>
<p>Peter didn’t respond as they walked up the driveway to his house, but that was fine. Once they were on the porch, he pulled out his keys and asked, “Tony, do you—? Nevermind, sorry. I want to ask but it’s a stupid question.” He unlocked the door and opened the door to let Tony in first.</p>
<p>Tony walked in and spoke over his shoulder. “You can ask it if you want to. I’m not a big fan of stupid questions but now you have me curious.” He sat down on the couch and propped a cheek up with a hand, doing his best to look innocent and inquisitive.</p>
<p>At the very least, it got a laugh out of Peter who swiped at him. “Stop doing that, you look like a dork.”</p>
<p>Tony dropped his hand, smiling as he leaned back against the couch. “So, what’s the plan now?”</p>
<p>“Uh… good question. I don’t know. I didn’t think this far ahead.”</p>
<p>“The car stealing thing caught us all off guard.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“I’ll call Pep and see about getting a ride out of here. The sooner the better, right? Just not soon enough to avoid that apology. Speaking of which, not that I actually care that much—and in fact I don’t really want to think about it at all—is Wade an omega?”</p>
<p>Peter gave him a strange look. “Wait you—you don’t know? You can’t tell?”</p>
<p>Shit. Fuck. “Well, scent-blockers—”</p>
<p>“Tony… Wade wasn’t wearing any.”</p>
<p>“Clearly I got too comfortable here. That’s my bad. Ignore that. For all intents and purposes, I never asked.”</p>
<p>“Tony—”</p>
<p>“Man it sure is hot in Texas. You guys don’t get much snow, do you? In Winter, I mean. I have mixed opinions on snow. Makes for gorgeous pictures but it’s a pain in the ass to navigate New York when it’s cold enough to freeze your balls off.”</p>
<p>Peter looked hesitant but ultimately answered, “Look, I get that you don’t want to talk about it and I promise I won’t press, but that’s actually… sort of what I wanted to ask. When we were outside.”</p>
<p>Tony clenched his jaw and stared at where the wall met the floor with intense concentration. “And what exactly did you want to ask?”</p>
<p>“If… if maybe you—I mean—”</p>
<p>“Listen, just say it,” he said, holding back the heat from his voice, which left him sounding breathy and exasperated, “You wanna get through things without losing my attention? Be snappy.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony’s phone rang in the moment it took Peter to steel himself, which crumbled at the sound of his ringtone. Tony answered and pointedly looked away. “Yeah?” </p>
<p>“Great,” Oh, it’s Pep again. “I told them you’d be back within the next day or two, so they’re willing to postpone until then. It’s been a few hours, have you made any headway?” </p>
<p>“No, my car was stolen. Are you in the penthouse?” </p>
<p>There was a pause over the phone as Pepper spoke to someone else, and she sounded distracted when she finally turned that attention back to Tony, “No, my shift hasn’t ended yet. Did you need me to activate a suit?” </p>
<p>Now that he was actually giving it significant thought, he realized he didn’t need JARVIS at all. His other suit had made the nearly eight-thousand mile flight from Miami to Afghanistan, and that was before his long list of upgrades and new suits. Two-thousand would be a cakewalk. “Yeah, actually,” he concluded. “Thanks, Pep. I owe you one.” </p>
<p>Peter got up and made his way somewhere further in the house.</p>
<p>Tony could hear the teasing smile in her voice when she said, “I think it’s more than one, by now.” And she was right. It was. “I’ll text you when it’s on its way.”</p>
<p>“You’re the best. See you when I get home.” </p>
<p>The silence after the call ended was thick and Tony was immediately restless.</p>
<p>He really didn’t want to keep having that conversation. At the same time, though… It’d started and he was afraid to see how things would pan out if he didn’t finish it.</p>
<p>“Pete?”</p>
<p>Peter was standing at the sink holding a glass of water and staring out the window above it. His shoulders were tight and his face betrayed his hurt. “Have you met anyone else since you and Ms. Potts broke up?”</p>
<p>Tony did a double-take. “Whoa, where is <em>this</em> coming from?” He didn’t mean to get quite so defensive so fast, but it threw Peter off and he backed down a bit. </p>
<p>Peter turned to him and set down his glass. “I-I’m just asking because I think we’re compatible?"</p>
<p>“You <em>think</em> we’re compatible?”</p>
<p>“No, I—I <em>know</em> we are. But that’s why I have to ask! I thought you would <em>say</em> something. And like, yeah, you don’t <em>have</em> to but you didn’t even react when you walked into the house, or even to <em>Wade’s</em> scent.”</p>
<p>Tony scoffed, “Sorry, I must have missed that somewhere in-between the partial anosmia and running a business from two-thousand miles away.”</p>
<p>“Partia—wait you—”</p>
<p>It was a sore spot. A big, big sore spot. Compatibility was a big deal between alphas and omegas, and just about every alpha who thought they were hot enough shit was trying to claim compatibility with Tony. It was just another fucking issue on top of the pile of issues in his life, and he’d long lost his patience for it. Frankly, it gave birth to an ugly pessimistic streak. The whole idea of knowing you were supposed to be the perfect match for someone by smell <em>sounded</em> great, but when you were the fucked up half of that who couldn’t bring home the dream of swapping scent descriptions and nuzzling each other and inhaling like you were crazy in love, it got annoying. </p>
<p>Looking on at everyone else was a reminder of what he couldn't have, and more than that, they had a habit of looking back at him with nothing but pity. Poor Tony Stark, who’ll never smell his mate’s scent.</p>
<p>He’d learned early on to avoid talking about scents and dynamic stuff when it would out his disability. Body language tended to suffice as far as pinning people went, and when it didn’t, he had Pep, Happy and Rhodey to set him straight. </p>
<p>He really had just gotten too comfortable with Peter too fast.</p>
<p>Tony’s eyes widened and he turned away to consider that fact. Tony got comfortable with people pretty fast as a rule, but never like <em>this.</em></p>
<p>He turned back around, stiff and maybe vaguely afraid. “Prove it.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Prove we’re compatible and I’ll believe you.”</p>
<p>“But I—” Peter floundered for a response, eyebrows knit with confusion and mild frustration. It took a moment, but eventually he frowned and said, “Okay.”</p>
<p>Tony was taken aback. “Seriously?” <em>Prove it</em> tended to end the conversation, only because Tony would walk away once it was insinuated that <em>fucking</em> would be the answer.</p>
<p>“Yeah, seriously.” His hands were balled into fists at his sides. “Chemistry and Biology are two of the things I’m most interested in. If I can find a way other than scent to prove compatibility between mates, that would help more than just you. It’s an issue at large and as it stands, it’s something the scientific community hasn’t touched on much because scent-related disabilities take a backseat towards the majority of hormonal and dynamic-specific behavior studies. So I’ll prove it.”</p>
<p>Tony stared at him for a moment, taking in his body language. Peter was serious, but more than that, he was also anxious to get moving, and Tony could tell by the familiar flutter of fingers and the way that—despite his determination—his eyes were taking stock of his surroundings and had locked onto a notebook across the room just a few seconds ago.</p>
<p>“Go on.” Tony gestured to it. “Go get it.”</p>
<p>Peter scrambled across the room to grab the notebook and a pen off the coffee table. </p>
<p>Peter had said <em>you.</em></p>
<p>Not ‘us’. Not ‘me’. </p>
<p>
  <em>You.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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